Safe
by HopelessRomantic1818
Summary: After all, there was nothing more adorable than Korra, wrapped in his precious scarf and Bolin's favorite blanket, smiling in her sleep, warm and calm and safe. -Makorra, rated for language and mention of hormones.


**Hey! I'm not dead! Yay! I've just been tumblr stalking every Korra related page for the past two weeks, worshiping these amazing characters. Ugh! Episode Four made me wanna die! **

**Note: These are interpretations of mine and mine alone. If you disagree with how I interpreted the events, characters, etc, disagree in silence. This is a no flame zone! And I wrote this on a low sleep, low coffee Wednesday, so if there are grammar, spelling, whatever issues, ignore them in good will. Thanks.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. And won't. Anyway, enjoy! AND REVIEW PLZ:)**

The night air carried a small chill as it swept through the streets of the city. It only made sense…it was almost winter. It wasn't yet cold enough to be frigid, merely unpleasant without the proper clothing for such weather. Mako secured the faded crimson scarf more tightly around his neck and ears, sparing them from the gusts that tore through his hair.

"_This scarf was my father's…and it's all I have left of him. I just feel like…like it keeps me safe."_

He wasn't surprised he told Asami such a personal thing so soon into their acquaintance. She was very easy to talk to. And kind. And strikingly beautiful…

Shaking his head, Mako tried to tell himself that wasn't his chief concern. Asami Sato was not just a stunning body, lovely face and wonderful, long hair. She was kind, sweet and compassionate. She was everything good in a woman and any man would be dying to be in his shoes.

That was a first.

But, overall, he did _not_ care for her beauty more than her persona. This _wasn't _just a shallow puppy crush. He _was _completely infatuated with her.

"But, that would be too easy and life has made it clear by now that easy is never going to work out for me," he sighed. If he were being honest, he would say that he did _like_ her, in every sense of the word. However, the fiery passion and deep rooted connection that he had learned to associate with "love" just wasn't there.

He wished it were. Asami clearly enjoyed his company, didn't mind spoiling him and was easy to be around. Everything was so damn simple with her. That's what he'd always wanted: a simple, happy relationship that _worked_.

But, as he climbed the stairs to the attic in the Arena, he found himself lost in the same feelings he had fallen into that night in the taxi, and the night after that and the night after that…and every date they'd had since Korra's little soiree. He had, for some unknown reason, found it possible to think of the most aggravating person he knew—Korra, the god damned Avatar—while cuddling with the Sato heiress. It wasn't a simple, _"I wonder what Korra's doing,"_ either.

He had suddenly felt the flare of anger, the pumping of adrenaline and—though he wished he could deny it, or _stop it_—the sharp, consuming spike of arousal that he got every single time he and Korra fought. Mako remembered the way his body grew hot and the sweat began to evaporate from his skin in his rage. He remembered being so damn _angry_ every time she made a snide comment with _that smirk_ on her face, or did something entirely foolish or worse dragged Bolin into something foolish.

And there, sitting in a taxi with Asami, he realized that there was a reason Korra made him so mad. He dreaded it, despised it, and attempted to drown it in a ridiculous amount of fancy dinners with Asami so that it would just stop. But the moment the radio had come on during their ride through the city in the Satomobile one night, since he had heard of Korra's challenge to Amon, since his stomach bottomed out and his heart crept into his throat, since he threw himself from her car, onto the roadside to vomit his dinner into the gutter violently, he knew. Mako knew what was missing from his relationship with Asami.

Still staring blankly at the floor of the attic, listening to Bolin snore like a chainsaw up in the lofts, he felt that warmth that the mere thought of the young Avatar sent sprawling through him. Sighing in what he could only describe as defeat, he slipped off his coat, hung it and chucked his shoes down next to the wall.

A new noise caught his attention, above—surprisingly—the roar of Bolin's snores. A whimpering, almost like that of an injured animal came from the direction of the windows. For a moment he wondered if Pabu had fallen down from the lofts or something, but the thought quickly flooded out as he spotted the familiar extra blanket draped across the couch.

This wasn't the first time Korra had spent the night on their sofa, but it was the first time he had ever heard such a pitiful noise out of _anything_, least of all her. He crept over to her perch as quietly as he could, mind spiraling into a frenzy of possible injuries, issues or threats that could harm her. Mako's eyes narrowed at the sight of her sweat covered body, trembling with the emotions her nightmares made real in her heart.

Mako knew what she was dreaming of. Who was haunting her every thought. He wondered why, before her challenge to him, she had been so greatly affected. Sure, their encounter with the masked monster Amon and even the close call Bolin had had was beyond frightening but she has seemed so _calm_ then. Why then, after they were safe, did she seem so broken by it?

His fingers tightened on his scarf, a tendency of his, and the action brought with it, again, the memory of his explanation to Asami. _"I just feel like…like it keeps me safe."_

Turning his gaze back to Korra again, he analyzed a possibility. Back then, he had leant Korra his scarf without a word of explanation about what it meant to him, whose it was. She needed it to hide her face, to make the disguise more believable. For Bolin, Mako would do anything, so it didn't seem like a big deal. Maybe the scarf wasn't just a symbol of safety for him, but to her as well…?

He shook his head. No way. She wouldn't have been able to make that inference on her own. And, after all, she was just as determined to save Bolin as he, so her lack of fear was undoubtedly a result of that rush of adrenaline. But…

Smiling to himself—half because he couldn't believe he was doing this, half because he kind of liked that he felt he could—Mako unraveled the scarf from around his neck and knelt down to transfer it gingerly to Korra's. He brought her blanket up to her chin, stroked her hair twice, before leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

"You're the only person besides Dad and I to ever wear this, Kor…keep it safe," he whispered to her, still smiling like an idiot. Figuring his job to be done, he stood, being careful not to trip over anything, and made his way to the stairs leading to his bed. Before bed, he sent one more backwards glance over his shoulder at the sleeping girl, noticing for the first time that the pained cries had ceased. His smiled widened at the image he saw, the image he ended up falling asleep to.

After all, there was nothing more adorable than Korra, wrapped in his precious scarf and Bolin's favorite blanket, smiling to herself in her sleep, warm and calm and _safe._

**Awww. Ain't that cute? If you think so (or if you don't- come at me bro!) REVIEW! I may just write another if you leave a review with an idea in it ;) Think about it, kay?**


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